


Senses

by Scrunyuns



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Flirting, M/M, Numbers is awkward af, Oral Sex, SMUTTY SMUT, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-17 20:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4679894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrunyuns/pseuds/Scrunyuns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Numbers and Wrench are discussing the value of music, and they get into the topic of the five senses... things kind of escalate from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Senses

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at some proper smut. There was a lot of blushing involved in this process tbh.

"Dollar store piece of shit," Numbers hisses at the motel room radio, as if he could somehow hurt its feelings with his harsh critique.

Scrolling through the frequencies in a seemingly futile attempt to find a station that doesn't play the same old Midwestern country crap that he hates, he barely notices his partner walking in the door with a sixpack under his arm.

"Oh, thanks," he mumbles when Wrench hands him a can.

Eventually Numbers finds a station that plays Talking Heads. _That'll do,_ he thinks and sits down on one of the single beds, cracking open his beer.

Numbers believes there's a great deal to be found in good music. He's not sure exactly how or why, but somehow a certain combination of noises - the gentle strumming of a guitar string, the lonely sound of a single brass horn, or even just a jazzy drum beat - can conjure up all sorts of emotions from out of thin air. Numbers thinks that's a really special thing, and he laments not being able to share it with his partner.

 _Doesn't it make you sad?_ he asks.

_What?_

_That you can't hear music._

_I can hear music,_ Wrench objects. _If the bass is loud enough._

_No, I mean hearing music like I hear music._

_There are so many other good things out there,_ Wrench signs with a shrug. _I don't really need music._

 _Without music to decorate it, time is just a bunch of boring production deadlines or dates by which bills must be paid,_ Numbers declares.

 _Who said that?_ Wrench asks, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

_Me, just now._

_And?_

_And F-R-A-N-K Z-A-P-P-A,_ Numbers finally admits.

 _I knew it would be him,_ Wrench signs with a chuckle. _I'm happy with just four of my senses, you know. Maybe you don't notice it so much because you've got the whole set, but I think there's a lot more to the other four than you think._

_Like what?_

_Like nice smells and tastes, of course,_ Wrench signs, looking at Numbers like he's an idiot. _Seeing pretty things. Touch._

_I don't know, whenever I think of smells I just think of... gasoline. Busted sewage pipes. Blood._

_What about a fresh loaf of bread?_

_Yeah, okay,_ Numbers concedes, nodding.  _That's pretty good, I guess._

_Clean sheets._

_Alright._

_Or your mother's cooking?_

_Stop it or you're going to make me cry._

_Which brings us to taste,_ Wrench continues. _So many good things. Honeycomb that melts on your tongue, crispy bacon, strawberries, a cold beer-_

_Shut up, you're making me hungry now._

_How about a kiss?_ Wrench asks, making Numbers' eyes go wide.

_What?_

_A kiss._

_I don't know about that,_ Numbers starts, scratching the back of his neck. _It's been a long time-_

 _Wait,_ Wrench interrupts, giving his partner a wary look. _What do you mean?_

 _What do_ you _mean?_

They stare each other down for a while, both of them trying to suss out what the other is implying.

 _I mean the taste of a kiss,_ Wrench finally signs.

"Oh," Numbers says, a blush creeping up his neck.

 _What did you think I meant?_ Wrench asks.

_Nothing. Nevermind._

Numbers pointedly looks away, trying his best not to appear too embarrassed.

 _Alright, you weirdo,_ Wrench signs, a wry grin spreading across his face.  _Where were we? Touch._

_Touch? Boring._

_Not boring!_ Wrench insists. _A lover's touch, for example. Best thing in the world. Second only to puppies._

 _Puppies,_ Numbers echoes with a look of disdain. He has never been a big fan of animals, let alone _dogs_.

 _Yeah, puppies,_ Wrench signs. _Holding those soft, furry little dumplings in your hand. And you know you could kill them with your pinky finger - but you won't, because they're just so small and fragile and lovely._

 _Furry little dumplings?_ Numbers asks. _For a second there I thought you were talking about testicles._ He snickers at his own clever joke as he takes another sip of beer.

 _Well, those too,_ Wrench signs.

Numbers almost chokes on his beer then, making his partner grin ear-to-ear at the sight of him coughing and spluttering. When he finally recovers, he wipes his mouth and immediately tries to change the subject.

 _What about sight?_ He hurries to ask. _Something that you like to look at._

Wrench then gestures to the window, at the sun going down over the horizon in a magnificent display of red, pink and purple hues.

 _That's C-H-E-E-S-Y,_ Numbers signs, making a face. _Come on, you have to do better than a fucking sunset._

Pursing him lips in deep thought, Wrench takes a moment to consider his partner's demand. Then he points to Numbers.

 _My turn?_ Numbers signs. _No, first you have to come up with something better._

 _No, idiot,_ Wrench signs, shaking his head. _I mean you._ You're _something I like to look at._

Numbers' eyes go wide again, and for a second Wrench is worried that they might pop right out of his skull and go rolling across the floor.

 _Are you,_ Numbers starts, swallowing, hands shaking slightly as he tries to find the right words. _Are you trying to flirt with me?_

 _Yeah,_ Wrench signs, blunt as ever. _Should I stop?_

Numbers runs his hand through his hair, at a loss for what to say. _Do I want him to stop?_ he wonders. It's definitely unprofessional, and any sane person would tell him it's a fucking terrible idea. But he'd be a dirty, rotten liar if he were to say he hadn't thought about this before, during late nights, lying alone in bed. Against his better judgement, he decides to take the risk.

 _No,_ he finally replies, worrying his bottom lip. _Don't stop._

 _I like looking at you,_ Wrench signs with a sideways smirk as he makes his way over to Numbers. _And thinking about what it would feel like to touch you. What you would smell like. The taste of you._

He sits down next to his partner. With his flushed cheeks, wide eyes and open mouth, Numbers is looking thoroughly worked-up. When Wrench reaches out to touch his hair, Numbers closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Hands clutching the edge of the bed, his whole body is rigid with anticipation - but then nothing happens, and he opens his eyes to find Wrench looking at him with concern.

 _Are you sure you're okay with this?_ Wrench asks. _You're very tense._

 _Yeah,_ Numbers signs with an eager nod, breathless. _I'm just a bit nervous, you know?_

 _I would never have pegged you as the blushing virgin type,_ Wrench signs. _Just relax._

 _I'm_ not _a virgin,_ Numbers informs him, but Wrench ignores that.

With gentle hands, he pushes Numbers down on the bed and takes it slow, warming his partner up with a soft kiss before letting his hands explore.

When Wrench's mouth starts working on his neck, showing no signs of having a problem with his beard, it dawns on Numbers that this might not be the first time his partner has been with another man. For all he knows, Wrench could have done this a million times before; coaxing inexperienced, bi-curious men like himself to bed with smooth talk, masterfully easing them into the experience with deft hands, and leaving them feeling very confused at the end of it. Numbers has to admire the man's skill and determination, if nothing else.

Wrench's hands move from underneath his shirt to the front of his pants, palming Numbers' already rock-hard dick. He hums in approval, giving his partner a rare demonstration of his voice, before unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly, finally reaching into Numbers' boxers. It has been excruciatingly, unbearably, _impossibly_ long since Numbers has had any other hand than his own on his dick and that sensation is enough to reduce him to a pathetic mess - so when Wrench suddenly bends down and runs his tongue up the shaft, Numbers has to stop him.

 _What's wrong?_ Wrench asks.

 _If you do that,_ Numbers signs, _I'm going to..._

_What?_

_I won't last._

_Yeah, that's the idea,_ Wrench signs and tries to continue where he left off, but Numbers stops him again.

_I don't want to come in five seconds like some goddamn teenager._

_I won't mind if you do._   _In fact, I'd take it as a compliment._

 _No, I want to last,_ Numbers insists. _Let me do you first, at least._

 _What?_ Wrench signs with a poorly stifled laugh. _You're going to give me a blow job?_

_Yeah, what's so funny about that?_

_This is your first time with another guy, right?_

_Yeah, so?_

_So you won't know what you're doing._

_Rude,_ Numbers signs, frowning. _I've got a dick, too. It can't be that hard, right?_

 _Alright, Deep Throat,_ Wrench signs, standing up and freeing his own erection. _Come here and show me how good you are with your mouth._

Upon seeing just how big Wrench is, Numbers is overcome with doubt. The circumference of that monstrous thing alone is enough to make even the most seasoned cocksucker quiver with fear.

 _What's the matter?_ Wrench asks. _Are your eyes bigger than your mouth? Bitten over more than you can chew?_

Those awful puns and that smug look on Wrench's face is not lost on Numbers. Glaring daggers at his partner, determinded to follow through, he sinks to his knees - but again Wrench stops him.

 _You don't have to do this just to prove something to me,_ he signs.

 _But I_ want _to do it._

Wrench shrugs and lets him get on with it. Diving in, Numbers tries not to think too much about the size and taste of his partner's dick - in stead he focuses on doing a half-decent job of sucking it. _I can't chicken out,_ he thinks. _I refuse to give him the satisfaction._

He is sure his efforts must seem clumsy, teeth grazing the head, but his partner isn't complaining. Steadying himself by grabbing Numbers' shoulders, Wrench throws his head back and lets out a guttural moan. The animalistic sound is as encouraging as it is sexy, and Numbers is starting to think that he might be more than just bi-curious. The noises that his partner is making spurs him on; he is getting into it now, sucking in earnest, trying his best not to gag on his partner's ridiculously huge cock. When Wrench taps his shoulder he doesn't stop, just peers up at him through his eyelashes.

 _I'm going to come,_ Wrench warns him.

There's a look in his eyes that suggests he's about to shatter into a million tiny little pieces. _A true Kodak moment,_ Numbers thinks. He wants this image framed and hung over his bed.

Ignoring his partner's warning, he shrugs nonchalantly and keeps going, looking at Wrench the whole time. _I am a dedicated, determined son of a bitch and I'm not gonna half-ass this._ He feels his partner's fingers weaving through his hair, making a fist, and soon enough Wrench is grunting, thrusting, spilling his hot release down his throat. This being his first taste of cum, Numbers is surprised at how much it tastes like bleach and he almost gags. But he's not about to ruin it now, and so he swallows like a good boy.

Smacking his lips as if it had tasted like hot fudge and marshmallows, Numbers rises to his feet and marvels at the sight of his partner in his blissed out state; Wrench's eyes are heavy-lidded, distant, his cheeks rosy, and his mouth is hanging open as he struggles to catch his breath.

 _You look sexy like this,_ Numbers tells him.

Wrench, finally returning to the land of the living, grabs him forcefully by the back of the neck and devours his mouth, pushing him down on the bed. Numbers lets himself be ravaged, lets Wrench take back control, and he gasps when his partner's wet, hot mouth envelops his cock. _Fuck, that feels good._

Wrench has definitely had some practise - no teeth, no gagging, no hesitation. Going slow at first, he gets his partner all worked up before picking up the pace, leaving Numbers wanting more.

"Faster," Numbers moans, even though he knows quite well that his partner won't hear it. "Fuck..."

When Wrench takes in as much of him as his throat will allow, cupping his 'furry little dumplings', Numbers loses the last sliver of dignity he had left; he starts keening, begging, letting all his dirty little secrets about what he wants Wrench to do to him spill out. 

"Fuck me," he pants as his partner expertly sucks, taking in more and more of him. "I want you to take me right here on this bed. I want your big fucking cock inside me. I want you to pull my hair. I want to come with your cock in my ass and your hand on my dick. I want..."

Numbers thanks God - who he doesn't normally believe in, mind you - that his partner is deaf, because he is embarrassed by his own shameful words, of how desperate and pathetic he sounds as he says them. But he just can't help himself.

"I want you to fuck me," he repeats as he edges closer to his climax, hands gripping the sheets beneath him. "Please, I want... I want you."

Numbers finally explodes, his whole body convulsing as the orgasm surges through him like an electric current. Letting out a strangled cry, he shoots his load into his partner's mouth. Wrench doesn't even seem fazed by this; he swallows like it's no big thing and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking very satisfied with himself.

 _What were you saying?_ he asks as he lies down next to his spent, spaced-out partner. _Anything I should know about?_

_What?_

_Just before you came, what were you saying?_

_I didn't say shit,_ Numbers lies.

 _Yeah, you did,_ Wrench signs, having none of his bullshit. _You were doing some kind of lust-fuelled speech. I_ saw _you. Bet you were saying some really K-I-N-K-Y shit, too._

If it were possible for Numbers' face to go any redder, it would. He tries to look away but Wrench grabs him by the chin, forcing him to meet his eyes.

 _See, this is the only reason why being deaf sucks,_ Wrench signs. _Fuck music - it's_ this _I regret not hearing. I can't hear the sweet noises you make, the things you say in the heat of the moment._

_I don't think you'd want to hear it, to be perfectly honest._

_Well, maybe next time you can translate for me._

_Next time?_ Numbers asks.

 _Yeah,_ Wrench signs, looking slightly disappointed. _Don't you want there to be a next time?_

 _No, I do,_ Numbers signs with a sigh. _I really do. But it's not safe, and it's not professional._

 _No one will find out,_ Wrench assures him. _That is, if you think you can stick to a low volume?_

_I guess I can try._

Wrench smiles and kisses him on his forehead.

_Good boy._


End file.
